CPR nightmares.

If you have ever watched Doctor Who, for the love of all that is holy, do not take a CPR course.

Does the follow scene look familiar?

I feel like I’ve had this exact nightmare before.

It’s because it’s an exact recreation of the first episode of the remake of Doctor Who where 9 and Rose destroy the Nestene Consciousness with a vial of Anti-Plastic.

If you don’t watch Doctor Who, essentially mannequins come to life and try to kill everyone. Just smile and nod.

As a devoted Whovian, you can imagine my horror as I walked in and saw these plastic terrors lying in rows on the floor with a grotesque maw where the face was supposed to be. Double that amount of distress when I realized the face was on my seat frozen in a seductive pout.

TRIPLE the agony when I found out I had to put my mouth on it, which seems not only hygienically iffy, but emotionally compromising.

I don’t know. Just me? Tell me this doesn’t freak you out a bit. You’re lying if it doesn’t. Or weird. Or both.

Anyways, the rest of the training was pretty uneventful, besides this place being out in the middle of nowhere in just about one of the sketchiest neighbourhoods I’ve ever gotten out of my car in a terrifyingly run-down old school with children’s drawing peeling off of the walls and flickering lights in the ceiling. I had a feeling that I was walking into a Saw trap.

Creepy bastard.

“Hello, Cassandra. Let’s play a game.”

“What? Uh. What?”

“You didn’t put your blinker on before you made a left turn the other day.”

“Uhhhh.”

“Now, to survive, you’re going to have to give these four mannequins CPR. Muahahaha.”

“That doesn’t even make sense as a punishment. Dude, you’re losing your edge.”